Category Archives: mind flaps

and thought-storms

On Writing:

When I move, it’s always a chance to look at the nooks and crannies of who I’ve been, which invariably means reading through my past writings. While I do my best to remain positive, personal writing has tended to be me feeding the dark dog. My good friend and amazing astrologer, Angel Lopez recently made a point of reminding me that this inner darkness must always be expressed. How I do that is up to me. Maybe I’ll keep writing fucked up feature films? o.O The alternative is scraps of thoughts in little books and papers here and there that, when I find them, make me want to give myself a hug and shake myself and say, “Relax! It’s not so fucking serious!!” [But, you know... It is. Maybe not "serious", but Life is important. Isn't it? The objectivist would say it's all there is, so F yeah, it's important.]

So, I found this little booklet with ramblings. All super emo. Here are a few choice ones…


i’m singin into the carpet again
don’t know how, don’t know when
i let the madness settle in
drinking tears for dinner
until it’s not a sin


everyone’s a thunder
a phoenix on the rise
chasing their own danger
plotting their demise
is it any wonder
the angel closed her eyes?


i’ve figured it out
this mathematics of tears
fragile hearts are broken
then mended by our fears


come back
to who you used to be
bring your pink balloon
you’re looking in a mirror
no one in the room
take back
the things they stole from you
they know not what they do
you’re twirling like a flower
growing into you


And then this note to self:

maybe I should do like Johnny Depp. write it down and never read it again.*

Good idea, Alyssa. Or, you know, just read the last page and leave it at that:

Btw, I’m writing another fucked up feature. I’m hoping humanity wins. We’ll see.


*Johnny Depp, apparently, doesn’t watch any of the movies he acts in. He says he does this because his job is done when he’s done acting, and it helps him avoid being self-conscious on future jobs.

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Viewing the world through symbols can be, at times, a lonely perspective to hold. But, every now and then, I come across an other who sees what I see. And, in that moment, I see my default vision as a SuperPower, as opposed to a negative mutation that is to be corralled into a Life More Ordinary.

Because I can’t help how I see things, perhaps my journey is to find those others who see Reality as I do, and, at the same time, to allow those who do not see the same, the space to exist, to their capacity. No harm, no foul. Infinite diversity necessitates all expressions.

This will feed to other social media, and I wish I could remember how to turn that off :/ Alas, I cannot. So everything gets this. Oh weo.

“Life is here to Love you. But you have to show up with your party dress on.” – moi

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Dear You:

Your thoughts, they are beauty-full
a sign
of the Divine within;
Your heart, it is magickal
stops time
heals Original Sin*

A Lo

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ya just gotta go deep. and it’s not always the prettiest picture on the wall, but it is definitely art, because it is an expression that could not have existed any other way.

now, i realize that i can sometimes live for long periods of time underwater and that it’s a good idea to come up every now and then. but, did you know that human civilization knows more about space than it does about the earth’s oceans? i believe in this AND that, not this OR that, so we should explore in both directions :) inward forever, outward forever.

on another note, i wonder what the world would be like if we replaced the word for “God” with “Life”. in fact, go full monty and replace all of these types of words with “life”, i.e. All That Is, Spirit, Allah, Buddha, Source, even Nothing. IN LIFE WE TRUST. well, do we? do i? pray to Life, ask Life for help, get pissed at Life, return to Life, let Life take the reins, believe in Life. hmmm. that last one is interesting. belief in life makes my brain fold in on itself. whether or not i believe in it, it’s certainly here. i’ve explored “reality” from so many perspectives, and the last one i landed on is on a post-it (where all major revelations go): “this is as real as it gets.” that’s to say, even if all of this is a hologram, or an illusion, it’s still what’s happening, what is being.

i’d tweeted this thought, but no one reads those, haha (not that anyone reads this, but i digress), so here it is again. what if the first breath was an exhale, not an inhale? when i breathe this way, everything changes. well, to be more precise, i change.

enough rambles for now.

[this is an old draft i decided to publish after all. still applies.]

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we kiss all these people in hopes that we will ever feel like we are kissing ourselves.

(march 20th, the “birthday”)

the thing is
and will forever remain
that words keep me company
they are touchstones
and fortune tellers
they are blankets
and potions
they are what i lean on
when there is nothing left
when there is only possibility
optimum trajectory
a path of breadcrumbs
leading me back
something to hold on to
and something to look for
they are the tunnel
and the light
always available
waiting like children
raising their hands
hoping i will call on them
for answers
and questions
they are the intersection
of knowing
and hoping to know
and for that
will always remain
my most divine lover
and love
they speak to me
when no one else will
and i hear them
when everything else
is empty
words, they are forever
an expression of self
at my fingertips


another dance around the sun
and here i am
waiting to be done
[wow, that was a little dark. at least i'm still dancing around the sun. the time to worry is when i stop dancing.]

(note to self, from another date, but how i feel today)

choose the beliefs that you prefer and like, because they feel good, better, best. reality is relative. there is no reality that is any more real or valid than another (Bashar). there is no question that you feel best when thinking and believing in a certain thing  (TUT). therefore, choose that. because there is no answer that is definitive, except for that which i choose. even if it is a coping mechanism, so is anything else. there is no REAL, real-er reality. there is no absolute TRUTH, except that i am here. beyond that, is my choice, as even that is.

the first time i saw this photo, i was a very different person, in a very different place. seeing it now reminds me of how different i am. it asks me how different i am. i love it for different reasons. and some of the same reasons, too.

Photo by Chris Anthony -

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“there’s a hole in your soul like an animal”

i can’t divulge how i came to reconnect with this song or i will out myself as a total geek, but god damn, this is a good one! also, as unrelated as this video featuring race-car-driving, i recently drove a nascar. full suit and gear, strapped into the car like i was literally part of it. i had a moment where i got claustrophobic… when they pinned the netting into the side window and i couldn’t see anything except a narrow, hazy, rectangular view straight in front of me. i thought, “i don’t know if i can do this.” i almost puked. i almost screamed and asked them to let me out. instead, i took a long, deep breath that lasted for what felt like the last one, and said internally, “no. i will do this. i may die. i don’t know. but i’m going to go with where i find myself at this moment. i am going to be right here and do this”–which happened to be wedged into a car that, by the way, is built to fly apart on impact, such that i would conceivably be unharmed if i crashed. sounds like life… supernova steez.

i survived… got into it… enjoyed it, even. hmmm.

-a lo

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what i have been learning / mash-up

back, once again, with the ill behavior (D for Damager, power to the people). this will be lengthy, as it’s been a while and i’ve been alive the whole time:

that when i talk out loud to myself, sometimes i answer back with sharp wit and humour. that spelling “humour” like that just feels classier. that as much as i stay out of politics, i will sometimes scream “BRING THE BOYS BACK HOME” at the top of my lungs with tears streaming down my face. and in that moment, my heart swells with love and hope that one day we will. that sometimes the best thing to do is drink straight from the bottle. that leetel things grow stronger and healthier when greeted with a song of “good morning sunshine” and a smile. that a desire is a decision, and that no belief is any more real than another, nor is any “reality” any more valid than another.

that i do not learn well through struggle and that’s just the way it is: i wasn’t built to, deal with it. that carrot cake for breakfast is delicious. that my soul-mates are on the ride, too, and at least it’s fun to look over and laugh as we all say “what the–??” that anything is like driving stick shift: at first it doesn’t make sense and is difficult, but eventually i’m multi-tasking without a second thought, throwin the mofo into neutral and coasting to the stop.

that life is a romance… some days i’m the boy, some days i’m the girl. that the past changes, depending on who i am in the present. thank god. and that music is still my hot hot sex.

[that i should remember to hit "publish" or things like this will languish as a draft for a month. hah. still learning'd.]

and insomniac ramblings from right now:

when i look into a cat’s eyes, i love them so and want to have them around
and there is science which backs up the healing a cat’s purring brings, google it if you must (25-50 Hz)
and i know their sweetness and playfulness and eternal regality
and want it around
until i imagine having a cat again
trapping them in my apartment like a fucking caged animal
how sad they would be
how sad i would be if i were them
and then i zoom back to the present
and i’m still looking into the cat’s eyes and it is saying to me
and i actually hear that in my head telepathically from the cat (even if the cat is in a photo)
and i nod and agree
i will wait until i can be like the real-life ‘witch of positano’ was with her dogs
all the animals roaming free
including me

(roaring looks the same as yawning)

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the holiday edition.

happy yule, solstice, christmas, hannukah, etc., whatever floats your boat. for me, this time of year isn’t exactly a birthday party for baby jesus–but hey, any reason to party is good with me. for me, it’s a time when “adults” play pretend again and dress up their houses with sparkling lights and give gifts to loved ones and make sweet things to over-eat and drink things they might normally not (i don’t like eggs! but pass the mofo eggnog) and the keywords are “merry” and “happy” and “joy”. sounds good to me ;)

i would review my year, but i really (finally?) don’t feel the need to. i love you all. yes, ALL OF YOU. period. thanks for making it fun <3

happy two thousand and eleven, earthlings! i’m excited for the part that happens next…….

a lo’bit

p.s. i’m not a religion, but if i was, i would have one tenet: love yourself and do unto others. wait, maybe i am a religion? and yes, i know that’s kinda two things, but they really work best together.

p.p.s. i don’t know why that was a p.s., either.

p.p.p.s. live long and prosper <3

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i didn’t think to stand up, i remained at a crawl.

things i’ve learned lucid dreaming: to walk on a wall, i simply re-frame my perspective of up and down. gravity remains intact, so that it is still possible to fall (gravity is necessary to keep my body from flying off into the air willy nilly, as i would in zero-gravity space).

so this:

became this:

…except that the wall isn’t what moved 90 degrees clockwise. my mind did.

next time i’ll choose a wider wall so that standing up will be an obvious choice and i can move from being on all fours to standing on my twos.

now, flying was easier, as it was wide open and free, but sometimes spidering up a wall will come in handy, i’m sure.

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spoons for noses mean flowers taste good.

i was gonna post about chemtrails, but decided it’s a better use of my energies to just bust those “clouds” with my third eye when i see them (or maybe transmute them into love clouds, which will rain down upon all of humanity, opening up fourth chakras worldwide). so, instead i will use this post to announce that i love my offbeat family, i cherish my unique friends, and i am open to more and more and more <3

(i couldn’t get the spoon to stick on my nose, so instead i devoured dessert.)

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taking pictures of poems.

i enjoy surreal word mash-ups and language “distortions” because my desire is to break language of its limitations, its deceptions about the true, mutable and paradoxically constant nature of reality. a thing is limited in naming it. it is hardened into a cage of letters and meaning, and it is my goal to free the things i can by presenting them in odd letters and combinations. shakespeare knew this: the sweetness is the thing, not the letters r-o-s-e. a rose is a flower, and a woman and a kiss and pure consciousness.

when strange and new combinations of words pop into my mind, i feel like an explorer, discovering an ancient ruin, which is at once as old as life itself and new to me. it’s the same sensation i’ve gotten when struck by a beautiful sunset, the clouds and colors arranged in a way i’ve never seen before, but there it was, all along, waiting to happen. there are no two sunsets that are identical and they happen every day.

the desire to communicate that which cannot be communicated is the ultimate fuckaroo. it’s like taking a picture of that beautiful sunset. that photo will never be the sunset itself, it was only for my eyes to see from my exact pinpoint of perception. i’ve stopped taking pictures of many beautiful moments, instead opting to savor the moment. but then i find myself–sure, only sometimes–wanting to share that moment with someone else, so i write a poem to jailbreak that image from my mind, hoping to give it to someone else.

someone once said i’m cryptic, like it was a bad thing, and it made me wonder if i was. it was a while ago and i haven’t been pondering it daily, but nonetheless, it gave me pause at the time. after this somewhat random but highly detailed exploration of my motives and recognition of my obvious delight in discovering new word combinations, i see it as a valiant effort to connect, which also happens to feel like a nice long brain-exhale for me. the universe is cryptic and there are no secrets… just things waiting to be discovered and described and then set free.

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this is what the voices say. i just write the shit down.

maybe sometimes in our lives
we should care not at all about any thing
and that means anything
but we should love it all
love being joyful acceptance of what is
without a reaching towards what ought to be
or could be
it’s just this silent hum
of molecules bumping up against each other
and laughing cuz it tickles

philosophical bender is on
i’m off to make-out with a forest and merge with a 3,000 year-old tree
i keep thinking perhaps it will share some of its secrets
and it’s wondering the same thing of me
planet earth, you are a perfect playground <3

(sadly, i don’t know who to give photo credit to)

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the rubber band theory.

this started out as an email to my sister, but i decided to go public with it :D

awareness of possible conspiracy makes it easier to keep from engaging in water-cooler gossip, which, whether the conspiracy is true or not, is a good thing. case in point: mel gibson.

i hadn’t paid much attention to the hooplah and then looked at a bit online. bottom line: whether he’s being set up (he’s pretty vocal about exposing the new world order) or is actually fucking nutso and abusive, why do i really need to bother about it? the chick who’s been supposedly abused is handling herself (if she’s really been abused — there is plenty of surfacing speculation that ALL of it is a lie, he’s being framed/edited/faked and/or somehow being manipulated because of his outspoken-ness about the new world order shiz). all of the “sources” of the proof of abuse and madness are the same ones that sell sensationalism… TMZ, In Touch, People and people. these are the mind-numbers, the gossip-mongers who get the masses to talk about petty things, other peoples’ drama and mindless chatter in order to keep them subdued and distracted. this is true, even if i were to say mel gibson is an asshole abusive crazy person or his ex is a gold-digging snatch. neither of those opinions REALLY matter. why are so many people obsessed with talking about it? both the mainstreamers and the conspiracy theorists. speculating on agendas that aren’t my own means i am a pawn on either side. there’s gotta be something more interesting to discuss, like perhaps that rubber bands last longer when they’re refrigerated.

i had to be reminded last night that i’ve been to borneo. what!?!

-alyssa out.

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slow down to speed up.

years ago, i hiked down the grand canyon with my family. if i didn’t hike down, it wouldn’t have been as beautiful, fun or amazing. that is, if i’d suddenly just found myself in the bottom of that canyon… sure it would’ve been cool. but ‘cool’ like looking at a photo of something pretty. the journey down filled out the photo into a 3D experience, laughing with my family, talking to God in my head, noticing the flowers breaking rocks to be there. and make no mistake, hiking, yes, even downhill, gets tiring. at some points i wanted to curl into a ball and roll down, my legs were so spent. did i mention we all had camping packs on our backs? stuffed with everything we’d need to camp out in the bottom of the canyon for a few days?? it was for this reason alone i didn’t try the whole curling into a ball. der! that would never work with a pack on my back! anyway, we finally made it to the bottom and every single step i’d taken was reflected back at me in the beauty of a bajillion stars blanketing the night sky.

and then we had to walk back up.

now. it occurs to me that, in terms of reflecting on this experience as allegory, i could’ve chosen to *FLY* out of that canyon. slow down. speed up. balance in all things.

i am,

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two thousand and ten reasons…

to celebrate. the first one on the list is that i made it through the last year. and the second one is that all of it – yes all of it – helped me realize that i will always make it through. we are immortal, after all.

it was a year of childbirth (the closest i will likely come. seriously). the first nine months were crazy painful and challenging. and then came moments of joy, fulfillment and bliss that exceeded expectations. the challenging stuff was personal, emotional. and i suppose the fun stuff was, too. i did things like screen TTWC at the iconic arclight, win seven awards in iowa, and start working with a tv/film agency i already love (metropolitan!). and that’s just naming a few of the brain-poppin awesomes.

so many of my friends also had a challenging time. all year it was
soul sisters
soul brothers
soul mates
and soul lovers
keep going
keep going
keep going

it seems everyone is ready for 2010 to be here and it is striking, wonderful, that there is a palpable sense of *excitement* about the new year. more so than i’ve ever witnessed. part of me wants to give 2009 the bird, but instead, this is me blessing it, letting it go and opening myself up to a magical 2010. btw, when i say magical, i don’t mean it’s magic. it’s not magic or luck. it is awareness. imagination. exploration. meditation. manifestation. creation. and yes, it’s all love <3

below is some poetry i wrote throughout the year. this little fishie is casting it to the sea like so many flower petals…………

there is a cave in my heart
that is dark like a womb
my heart beats against it
the echoes a bouquet of ghosts
tossed into the universe
beyond the beyond
and somewhere out there
beyond the beyond
a child gazes up at its sky
and calls them the stars
wishes he knew where they came from
somehow feels connected
like they’re part of his heart
as they whisper love in the dark
a blanket of hope that there’s more
and when i gaze up at my sky
from right here
when i look at these stars
i feel that child
i wish i remembered
where they came from
the stars whisper
there’s more

the only thing i can manage to write
is tears
and at a certain point
they write themselves
and i go off
into a dimension unseen
i come back to novels
of wishes
etched onto my face
in a language i can’t understand
i examine them closely
skipping ahead to see
how they end

you are the phantom
i am the dream
it never happened
and it all will again
over and over
eternity upon eternity
this fleeting world
that no one sees
the end of a breath
the silence of trees
falling in the faces
of gods on their knees
i take walks every day
hoping to fall in love
with a stranger
or a flower
or my self
i punch holes in the skyline
hoping to see beauty
in the danger
and the power
of this life

i don’t want to write
any of this down
so that i can forget it
wash it away
like moonlit footprints
on the sands of time
carried out to the blackness
by the cold hard sea
wish that i knew now
what i’ll know tomorrow
that none of it happened
that my heart isn’t breaking
against the cliff of who we were
to each other
in the dark
wash it away
by the cold hard sea

rumors are written on bathroom walls
and faces of strangers
sinking old ships in the night
dreams are dancing on the edges of razors
and lips of lovers
sucking the seed till it’s dry

all that matters
is who you are
and who you pretend to be
a handshake
a heart break
a thin grin on a blue plate
a marching band
lost on a desert road
a marksman
hits a sleeping gate
you’ll never quite remember
who you thought you were
cuz all the shiny mirrors
get lost inside the blur
of who you are
and who you pretend to be
and who you wish you were

the distance between these selves
an ocean of remorse
the space between two parallels
that will never ever meet
no matter that the force
could bend every bone
pretending that would work
but work’s for those who still believe
that love is something earned
floating down the river
of tears that cut and burn
all those years of breaking
we finally have learned
the price
the cost
the moments lost
the price
the cost
kills any sense of worth

you’re getting farther away
and so am i
i’m with change
and things that don’t stay the same
we danced on that moment
like it was all there was
a dandelion
twirling in the fingers
of god
but i’m with change
and things that don’t stay the same
i check the rearview of my mind
as you fade away
your shining silhouette
cuts away
i’m with change
i’m with things that don’t stay the same
you’re getting farther away
so am i
and with enough change
the moment passed
that shining dance
was left to linger
fading with the rain

don’t go back to who you were that day
you gave all your sweetness away
tear up the ghost you’ve twisted
it’s shifted
like a stranger, a lover
in a forgotten bed
you’re sitting here on the edge of your world
whispering nothing into your own head
tear up the ghost you’ve twisted
it’s shifted

don’t go back to those empty ways
you kept your heart beating anyway
tear out the kisses, you missed it
it’s shifted
like a prayer, a feather
on a dirty wind
you’re lying here at the dawn of the pearl
shattering roses and everything red
tear out the kisses, you missed it
it’s shifted

there are too many wounds
to play any more
the scars on our fingertips
changed who we are
i look in the mirror
for a clue
for an answer
the thing that stares back
is wondering too
where did she go
that girl that we knew
with scars on my fingertips
i read my face in the dark
and neither of us could’ve known
but both of us knew
the healing that comes
is not a return
but a river of rain
paving a canyon of fingertips
and nothing will ever be the same
and both of us knew

we are here to be alive
not kill ourselves
do the math on that

thank you, my dear fellow divine beings. we kept going. and now, again, still, forever, we are here. party at my pad!! :D

so much love,
alyssa taesun lobit

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don’t call it a comeback, i’ve been here for years.

sometimes it takes 17,000 years to see the light. and sometimes what it looks like is a hand, reaching for light.

this is a new pic from NASA’s Chandra X-Ray Observatory. the full article: Cosmic Hand Reaches for the Light.

i love the universe. outward, forever. inward, forever.

-a lo

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what i iz learning’d:

that sitting with a tree is like sitting with an old, wise friend. that i’m addicted to natural things like figs and cashews and serenity. that even cute things are annoying when they’re needy, but still, Love is considerate. that i’m inclined to re-structure in constructing my various expressions. that the miniscule moment when the pieces first fit is bliss, with brain-side fireworks. that this playground is a hodge-podge of child-people with varying degrees of wisdom, knowledge, experience and emotional wherewithal. sometimes i’m the duck, sometimes i’m the goose; sometimes i’m off to the side playing tether ball. and finally, again, that i must use my power for good.

a bit

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this is the montage.

the part where all sorts of shifts and learnings occur, and the minutes, hours and days in between are cross-dissolved into obscurity. only it’s in slow-mo, sans edits, so it’s a little less watchable by others. but the pieces feel like a nice stretch in the morning, complete with audio. pop! ahhh.

“Just keep your longing burning, aflame; don’t lose heart. Your longing is the seed of your spirituality. Your longing is the beginning of the ultimate union with existence.” – OSHO

and here’s a rare illustration of a real-time montage of sorts, covering so much of life in under a minute. note that the subject places his finger in danger on purpose the second time. i’ve done that before. but it all ends smiling…

keep it real, rockstars. <3

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prezzy view = shizzy photo

this picture took a thousand words and smooshed it into one: smoggy. oh weo. it happens sometimes.

actually, after further review, i realize: the view is pretty in the pic, too. it’s just not what my eyes saw! marinate on that…

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ear plugs make me sick.

as in, they give me sickness. as in, if i wear them, i get the flu. wtf, yo.

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